


This Isn’t Gonna End Well

by CasinoLights



Series: I Knew You’d be the Death of Me [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, and a lot of comic relief, probably some nsfw in later chapters, romantic and sexual tension, the violence probably isn't too bad but i tagged it anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:58:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9229589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasinoLights/pseuds/CasinoLights
Summary: A courier who keeps forgetting meets a soldier who wishes he could, and they agree to protect each other until they reach their goals. Hers is glory; his is death—sometimes the two go hand in hand. The more they travel, the more they learn about one another. Things like Katerina’s fear of roaches, the strange stories behind some of Boone’s scars, and why he will never, ever let her near a tambourine again. Slowly but surely, what began as a partnership borne of opportunity becomes one of loyalty, pushing ever forward through Mojave sand together until they both find what they’re looking for... or die trying.





	1. The Wanderer

The sun glares off the dinosaur’s front canine and Craig Boone glances at his watch. _Six forty-four_. He rolls his neck from side to side and readjusts his posture. The radio inside filters in, muffled and grainy, but he can make out a few words. Courier, shot dead, Goodsprings. He’s heard that story twice since Cliff opened up shop at five-oh-five. _If someone can survive getting shot in the head_ , he thinks, _how many of his kills might have gotten back up?_

The door behind him opens and he whirls around, narrowly missing the newcomer with the barrel of his rifle. “Goddammit! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

She holds up one hand innocently and slides a pair of pink-framed sunglasses down her nose with the other. “Did I interrupt something? Alone time? My bad.”

Boone takes in every detail. There’s a Pip-Boy on her wrist and two bullet casings dangling from a chain on her neck. He spots the laser rifle on her back and marks the fact that it’s securely holstered as a good sign. But he never discounts a potential threat. Still firmly gripping his gun, he asks, “What do you want?”

“What if I don’t want anything? I could just be sightseeing.”

“Nothing to see up here.”

She frowns. “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

“Maybe,” he says. Then, “Yes. But not someone like you.” He looks at her again, scrutinizes her, and his brow furrows. “Maybe I should’ve been expecting you all along.”

“Who are you waiting for? Maybe I could help look.”

He supposes she’s earned a straight answer; maybe he’ll get one from her in return. “You see anyone wearing Legion crimson or a lot of sports equipment, let me know. Now, why are you here?”

She shrugs, casual and lazy. “I was looking for the daytime sniper. It’s daytime, and you’re a sniper, so—”

“I think you’d better leave.”

Another frown, now. “Friendly conversation sure isn’t your strong suit.”

“I don’t have friends here.”

“Good thing I’m not from here, then.”

It dawns on him then. “No, you’re not, are you? Maybe you shouldn’t go. Not yet.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He’s starting to doubt this already, but he doesn’t have a choice. “I need someone I can trust. You’re a stranger—that’s a start.”

“Oh, now, wait a minute. I don’t do favors.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I could do this myself. Nobody here even looks me in the eyes anymore.”

She twists her lips. “Maybe because you always wear sunglasses?”

If the safety on his rifle wasn’t on, he’d have a much harder time not shooting in her direction. _Maybe that’ll come in handy_ , he thinks. _Maybe she’ll annoy the information out of them._

“So what are you paying me for, exactly?”

Interesting how, despite him never mentioning payment, she assumes he’ll be compensating her. True mercenary behavior—but maybe that’s exactly what he needs right now. “My wife was taken by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. Someone set her up.”

“ _Dios mio_ ,” she whispers, eyes wide and smile erased. “I’m so sorry. Do you know what camp they took her to? She could still be alive.”

“She’s not.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want the son of a bitch who sold her.”

“And he’s in town?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I don’t even know if there’s anything to find. I just need to try.”

She meets his eyes through his sunglasses. “Give me something to go on, and I’ll do my best.”

It occurs to him now that he’s never planned this, not with the help of an outside party. “When you find him, bring him out front of the dinosaur during my shift. I work nights.”

“Wait a minute. Wait.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “You’re not the daytime sniper?”

He scowls. “No.”

She settles her hands on her hips. “Then who the hell are you?”

“Boone.”

“Just Boone?”

“For now.”

“Fine. Then I’m just Enns.”

 _It’ll do_. He pulls off his beret and presses it into her hands. “Put this on. It’ll be our signal, so I know you’re standing with him.”

She turns it over in her hands a few times. “Military man, huh?” She traces the outline of the patch with her index finger. “NCR?”

“Used to be.”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” Before she can say something else, he adds, “We shouldn’t speak again—not until this is over. Nobody here knows that I know what happened to my wife and I want it to stay that way.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna know that I know that nobody knows that you know.” She flashes a grin, tucks his beret into the satchel on her belt, and disappears into the body of the dinosaur.

***

Over the course of a few hours, she’s interrogated nearly everyone in town—including an old man she played five hands of Caravan with and barely broke even while discussing aliens that can only see in black and white checkers. When she reaches for the door of the Dino Dee-Light after saying goodbye to him, she finds herself empty-headed.

She quietly growls with irritation and looks around for the man in the red beret... whatever his name was. And then she frowns, thinking no, he isn’t wearing the beret anymore, right? before sighing and folding her arms. She glances around, frustrated, before catching sight of the man she’d talked to in the dinosaur’s mouth— _Boone was his name_ , she delightedly recalls—and she calls to him.

He looks pained when he sees her, like he’s mortified she’s even speaking with him, and walks on as if he doesn’t know her.

She frowns and jogs over. “Hey! I’m glad I caught you. I had a question about— _ow_!”

He grabs both her forearms and pulls her behind the motel until she hits the back wall. “I told you we shouldn’t be seen together, goddammit.”

“Sor- _ry_!” she hisses. “I forgot what you told me to do! I talked to the old guy about the pink ghosts and then I forgot!”

He rolls his eyes. “Find out who sold my wife out to the Legion. Bring him to the front of the dinosaur at night. Put that beret on. That’s it.” He spits the last words, teeth gritted.

“Okay, okay, I get it. _Jesucristo_.” She scans his face, eyes darting from the half-snarl on his lips to the angry flush on his cheeks, and suddenly realizes that he has her _pinned against the wall_. Clearing her throat softly, she thinks the words in Spanish and says them in English: “Can you let me go?”

He immediately does, arms snapping back to his sides as if her skin burned him, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

She rubs her wrists and wonders if she’ll have thumb-sized bruises tomorrow. “If they didn’t suspect anything before...” she mumbles, shooting a quick glare at Boone.

He shakes his head and turns away. “You got it now?”

“Yeah, I got it. I’m pretty sure I know who did it, anyway.”

He almost wants to spin around and ask her so he can kill them now and be done with it. But he sets his jaw and curls his fists. “Good. Bring them to the dinosaur sometime tonight.”

“Only if you promise not to slam me against any more walls.”

A low scoff rumbles in his throat. “Sure.”


	2. One For My Baby

A shot rings through the sleepy town of Novac and Katerina Enns slips the red beret off her head. She looks up toward the dinosaur, but her contact has vanished. Grieving? Remorseful? No, he doesn’t seem the type. Hell, he doesn’t seem like he’s cried in years. She sighs through her nose and glances down at the streak of bloody mush that once was Jeannie May Crawford’s head. It’s a mess, and not the kind an animal would make. If Boone doesn’t want to be suspected of murder, they’re going to have to do something about the body. The dinosaur looks directly down at Jeannie May’s corpse—the only thing missing is a bullet casing with Boone’s name on it.

Enns glances up at its mouth again. Boone stands there, looking—or scowling—down at her. Should she drag the body away? Should she lead a couple of geckos over to make it look like an accident? Should she just skip town and leave the beret right there for Boone to grab it on his own? She kicks at the ground beneath her feet, mulling it over for a while, before leaving the body alone and shuffling off toward the dinosaur. _Dinky_ , Enns recalls. _What an innocent name for something they’ve turned into a sniper’s nest._ The stairs creak beneath her as she ascends to the top.

Boone opens the door with a grim look on his face and a lit cigarette between his fingers. Before she can say anything, he asks, “How did you know?”

The smell of smoke hits her lungs all at once and she suddenly craves a drag. She holds herself back, and instead produces a neatly-folded note. “I found this.” As he skims it with narrowed eyes, she continues. “Manny called your wife a bitch and said he hated her, but I couldn’t find any dirt on him so I asked around for an hour or so and ended up in the motel. You want the caps I took from Jeannie May’s safe?”

He glares at her so acerbically she suddenly she wishes she hadn’t said a word. “You mean the caps from the sale of my wife and unborn child? No, you can hang onto those.”

Enns swallows her next words and instead mutters, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

It only takes another minute for his tone to steady. “This is all I can spare,” he says evenly, extending a bag of caps to her.

“Keep it,” she manages, voice still stuck in her throat.

He hesitates, arm still outstretched, before awkwardly shoving the bag into his pocket. “Fine. I think our dealings are done here.”

She clears her throat. “I can get rid of that body down there if you don’t feel like catching a murder charge.”

“Nobody cares.” When she arches her eyebrows in disbelief, he explains. “People die out there often enough that nobody worries about blame. Besides,” he adds, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke between the dinosaur’s teeth, “I was on break when it happened.”

Enns chuckles dryly. Her gaze flicks to his cigarette again and she cracks. “Bum a smoke?” she asks, and the stare she’s met with could cow an angry Bighorner. Despite his glare, he draws a fresh cigarette from his half-empty pack and lights it with his before handing it to her. She inhales, exhales, and leans against the wall with a long sigh. “God,” she says, “it’s been so long since I had one of these.”

He looks her over, wondering why but saying nothing.

“You got plans?” she asks after another long exhale.

He shrugs and holsters his rifle on his back. “Don’t know. I won’t be staying, I know that. Don’t see much point in anything except hunting legionaries.” A pause. Then, “Maybe I’ll wander, like you.”

“You can wander _with_ me.”

“You don’t wanna do that.” The words rush out too soon, but he doesn’t regret them.

“I offered, didn’t I? I thought snipers worked in teams.”

Something akin to a grunt rumbles in his throat. “Yeah. Working on your own, you’re a lot less effective. I’ve been there and paid for it.”

“So don’t work alone anymore,” she says. She’s telling more than asking. “Work with me.”

Something inside him whispers _this is it—this is how it ends,_ and he says, “This isn’t gonna end well.”

She eases into a looser posture as she slips her hands into the pockets of her desert-brown shorts. “Nothing ever does.”

There’s a story in her words, and he knows it, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he grabs his spare ammo from the floor and says, “Alright.”

“You okay with going my way?”

“Depends on where it leads.”

She huffs on her cigarette again before sweeping her hair away from her face. His eyes snap to the surgical scar on her forehead and her lips press together into a grim line. “Some _chingón_ shot me and took something from me. I want it back.” She drops her hand and her hair slides over the scars again. “He may not be Legion, but I’m sure we’ll find plenty enough on the way to the Strip.”

The radio story echoes in Boone’s head. _Courier, shot dead, Goodsprings._ Only this courier isn’t dead. “Fine. Just let me get some shut-eye first.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chingón" is "fucker" in Spanish. Kate’s a foul-mouthed little thing—good thing Boone doesn’t know much beyond “Si" and "Hola."


	3. Unforgettable

Boone groans into his pillow when the door rattles like the devil himself stands behind it. Nobody in town is brave enough to wake the friendly day sniper, let alone the grim night sniper, so there can only be one person knocking this loudly and this rapidly on his door.

“Rise and shine, prickly pear! I’m bored!”

Boone furrows his brows just about as hard as he can. She’s _bored_? Reluctantly, he stands up, tucks his annoyance under the bed with his rifle, and unlocks the door for her.

“There you are.” Her gaze skims over his muscled arms and she blinks before making eye contact again. “I said meet me in the morning, not the afternoon.”

Boone scowls. A quick glance at the clock on the wall says _no, it’s only nine_ , but she holds up her Pip-Boy and it says _one-seventeen_. Then he remembers he hasn’t changed that clock yet. It needs new batteries. He isn’t sure where he’s going to find them—it was hard enough getting the first pair. But does it even matter? He’s got a watch, NCR standard-issue, just wind it up once in the morning to make sure it’s still ticking. Why did he even look at that clock, anyway?

“Hey, you with me?”

He realizes his eyes had glazed over. He blinks and nods once.

“You looked kinda lost there for a sec.”

He doesn’t reply, electing instead to start undressing and packing his things.

Enns chokes on her bubblegum. “Whoa, whoa, naked men were _not_ originally in this arrangement.”

He pauses halfway out of his pants. “Thought you were gonna turn around.”

“If I had some warning other than awkward silence, I would have.” She heaves a sigh and turns her back, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “I guess NCR doesn’t do personal space.”

“No. They don’t.” He pulls on a white shirt and a pair of pants he’s fairly certain are clean before retrieving his rifle and several boxes of ammunition.

“Do you have any of those... what are they called?” Enns scowls at the floor. “Those bullets that, um... they don’t work against armor?”

“Hollowpoints.”

She snaps her fingers. “Yes! Hollowpoint bullets! Bring those. We’re fighting ghouls.”

He turns around and straightens himself up. “Thought we were fighting Legionaries.”

“We are.” She pauses, swallows, then uncrosses her arms and settles her hands on her hips instead. “Eventually. For now, we need to clear out the REPCONN building.”

He frowns at her. “Vargas put you up to this.”

“ _Si_.”

“You don’t do favors.”

“No. But he said he’d tell me where the _cabrón_ in the checkered coat went, so I need to.”

“Checkered coat... did he have two Khans with him?”

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You saw him?”

“Yeah. Headed east. Only things that way are the Dam and Boulder City.”

“So he had to be going one of those places?”

“Boulder City’s right on the road to the Strip.”

She grins wider than he’d thought possible without cracking her face. “Oh, Boone, I could kiss you.”

“I’d really rather you not.” He slings his bag over one shoulder and leans his rifle on the other. “Ready when you are.”

Enns rubs her hands together. She looks like a Silver Shroud villain when she does it. “ _¡Vamanós!_ ” she exclaims, stepping out the door in a march.

He follows her—though with lower knees—and closes the door behind them. He doesn’t bother locking it. Nothing of value left in his room but memories, anyway. “Nelson’s on the way,” he mutters as they descend the metal stairs.

She peers over her shoulder at him. “Hmm?”

“Nelson. Big Legion camp.”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that. I was just checking.” She turns around again. “Boulder City first.”  
  
He frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He figures she’ll get used to the silence.

“So, mystery man...” she begins soon afterward. “You’re in the military?”

His brow furrows. “Yeah. NCR.”

“Were you a sniper for them, too?”

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Told you yesterday.”

Her expression switches from one of confusion to one of disappointment. “The beret. Right. ...Sorry.”

It’ll sound callous, he knows, but he says it anyway: “Amnesia?”

“ _Si_. Don’t remember what kind. The doctor gave me two or three. Hell, when I first woke up, all I could speak was Spanish.” She sighs and jerks her thumb toward the leather-bound notebook tied to her backpack. “I write stuff down in there so I don’t forget it, but sometimes I forget to write what I want to remember. I wrote a note once to remind myself to write reminders, but I forgot that too.”

Boone pinches the bridge of his nose. If he’s getting a headache this soon into their “adventure,” he’s almost afraid of what the rest of it will be like.

Another few minutes of quiet passes before he can tell by the stress in her shoulders that she’s going to combust if she doesn’t say anything.

“So... how ‘bout this weather, huh?”

“Enns—”

“Sorry. I’ve just never travelled with anyone before. Or made a friend. I mean, if I have, I forgot. You know how it is...”

He lets out a throaty huff. He wishes he did know how it is, how it feels to forget. He starts to wonder just how much he’d trade to forget some of his worst memories, and he doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Enns faces him with a look of concern.

“ _¿Estás bien, grandullón?_ ”

He swallows, throat drier than his eyes. “Huh?”

She tries to remember the English words. “Are you okay? You look distant again. ”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she assures with a warm smile. “Take your time.”

Nice. Unnecessary—and unexpected—but nice. He makes a mental note to return that patience when he can. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so. Whenever you’re ready, I need you for navigation.” She waves him onward and sets off again. “Sometimes I think I couldn’t find my way anywhere even if there were signs pointing right to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Cabrón” is “asshole” and “estás bien, grandullón” is “you okay, big guy?”


	4. Ain’t That A Kick in the Head?

“We’re getting close to Nelson,” Boone says.

Enns stops and scowls. “Hey, wait a minute. I said we were going to Boulder City first!” Realization glimmers in her brown eyes, and she narrows them at him. “You devious little shit. You weren’t leading me to Boulder City at all!”

He shrugs. “Guess I didn’t see any signs pointing right to it.”

“Oh, you… you…” she growls when she can’t think of the word she wants and angrily shoves her hands in her pockets. “Fine. We’ll clear this stupid place out. Happy?”

_Never_. “Sure.”

Her expression switches to a smile like the flip of a cap. “Well, okay then. Let’s go shoot ‘em up!”

She marches forward, nodding solemnly at the NCR boys patrolling the perimeter, until one stops her with a hand on her chest—which she nearly punches him for touching. “I’ll have to ask you to leave. Non-NCR personnel aren’t allowed past…” He glances behind Enns, then clears his throat when he notices Boone’s beret. He salutes, and Boone returns it. “You active?”

“On leave,” he lies.

The soldier glances at Enns, then back at Boone. “I see. Well, if you’re available, we could sure use a sharpshooter.”

“Sure am. What’s the situation?”

Enns raises an eyebrow at him as if to ask, _What are you doing_? He only replies with a look of his own—one of certainty. _Trust me._

“Damned Legion’s got three of our boys down there,” the soldier grumbles. “Pinned ‘em up on crosses.”

Enns cringes and makes a face.

“We can’t get down there—damn town’s a nest of those bastards. We need someone to give our guys some peace.”

Now it’s Boone’s turn to cringe, but his isn’t nearly as noticeable as hers. He clenches his fists, sets his jaw, and says, “Got it.”

“You in?”

“Yeah.”

The soldier looks surprised, but takes a deep breath and turns around anyway. “Follow me. I’ll show you the best vantage point we’ve got.”

As he walks away, Enns grabs Boone by the arm and hisses, “Seriously? Mercy killings?”

“Hell with ‘em,” he mutters back. “We’re getting those guys out of there. The next guy might not.”

She lets go of his arm and frowns, thinking hard as he follows the man toward a high ledge. She catches up with him just as the soldier says, “No heroics. We’ve already tried and failed to get them free. Just put them out of their misery and come back.”

Boone nods and readies his rifle. He crouches and aims, turns his head toward Enns, nods to her, and fires.

By the time his target’s head (or what’s left of it) splatters against the ground, Enns is already shooting up the town, laughing and shouting in Spanish as she leaps over bodies like a dancer on a stage.

The soldier behind Boone curses and readies his own rifle to begin firing at the Legionaries, but by the time he’s aimed, only one is left. “Dead Sea,” he whispers. “Shit.”

Boone narrows his eyes and looks through his scope. Enns has him focused on her, so if he could only get a steady shot...

She punches him. Hits him square in the jaw and a shower of blood results from it. He roars and tackles her, and Boone tries to line up a shot, but they just won’t stay still long enough for him to get a clean one. If he fires now, he’ll hit her, but if he doesn’t, Dead Sea might kill her as surely as his bullet.

And then she cries out, and through his scope, Boone sees blood. So he fires.

Dead Sea falls limp and Enns pushes him away before spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground. She looks toward where the shot came from, and when she sees that red beret, she grins and waves him down.

He stands, shoots one look at the soldier who’d enlisted them, and jogs down the hill to rejoin Enns and help her free the three crucified soldiers.

“You hurt?” he asks as she clutches her arm, watching the soldiers carry their wounded men to safety.

She shrugs. “Not bad. Could’ve got me worse—he was aiming for my neck. I blocked.”

“Better wash it out. Legion uses poison sometimes.” He looks up at the sky and squints at the sun, orange and pink at the edge of the horizon. “Gonna get dark anyway. Should make camp.”

She follows him back up the hill. “We’re going to Boulder City tomorrow, right?”

“Sure.”

“And you know where it is? You’ll actually take me there this time?”

“Uh-huh.”

She smiles, blood still tinting her teeth red. “Okay. Now... I don’t really know _how_ to make camp.”

He strangles a sigh.

“What? I just keep finding old houses to stay in!”

“Forlorn Hope’s up the hill that way.” He gestures to the ridge beyond Nelson’s edge. “No man’s land between us and it, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Mines. Holes. Trenches.” He rotates his shoulder and rubs at the bruise his rifle recoil’s left. “Won’t be easy to cross.”

Enns closes her eyes slowly. “Well...”

“Got a sleeping bag?”

“...No. What about one of these old places?”

He glances over at the soldiers bustling around the town. “Don’t really like the idea of sleeping where legionaries did.”

She sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. “You aren’t going to turn into one if you do, you know.”

He frowns, but relents. “Fine. Let’s clear out the bodies first, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> Most, if not all of the Spanish I use in this fic has been okayed by my friend who speaks Spanish. If any native Spanish-speakers notice anything wrong with how I write Katerina’s native language, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT 2/14/17: My Courier's name has been changed from Amy to Katerina. I know it's poor form to change a character's name in the middle of a multichapter. Luckily, I've been referring to her by her last name, Enns, so hopefully it won't cause too much of a disturbance. My apologies for any disruptions!


End file.
